


Her Lady

by StarryNox



Series: FE Femslash Week 2016 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, Very fluffy, there is pining involved, written kinda like a series of vignettes?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:45:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7929991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryNox/pseuds/StarryNox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The young Princess Lissa’s eyes catch hers, a mischievous gleam in jade eyes, and Say’ri prays (to her Lady—she’s well aware of the irony), that the young royal keeps her lips sealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Lady

She is fifteen when she first meets their Lady, taking a rare journey from the Mila Tree to the surrounding nations that worship the very ground upon which she walks. Say’ri doesn’t know if she’d call herself devout, for she believes in the strength of her blade more so than any divine force, but her breath catches when she spies the Voice of Naga, more resplendent than any tale has painted her. 

“My Lady, it is an honour to meet you.” She kneels at the silken hem of Tiki’s dress, and when she’s told to rise—or to at least lift her head—Say’ri thinks would happily dedicate her sword, nay, her life, for the divinity in front of her. 

 

 

“My Lady!” Relief is palpable on her tongue as she all but falls at Tiki’s feet. She’s worried and worried, for months, years even, about Tiki’s well-being during her confinement, and yet—true to form—Tiki has simply been asleep. “I’m so relieved to see that you’re all right.” Tiki smiles gently, as if she knows the true nature of Say’ri’s worries, before turning her attention to the Exalted family, whose presence Say’ri has all but forgotten ’til now. 

The young Princess Lissa’s eyes catch hers, a mischievous gleam in jade eyes, and Say’ri prays (to her Lady—she’s well aware of the irony), that the young royal keeps her lips sealed. 

 

 

A cry of dismay, for Tiki’s begun her ritual and yet Risen have begun to swarm Naga’s Cradle. Say’ri grips her steel sword—how she misses the singing blade of her katana, lost during her flight from Chon’sin—tightly as she falls into Robin’s ordered formation. Even so, she can’t help but sneak glances back at the vulnerable manakete at her back, no matter how often Robin urges her attention forward. 

“Are you unharmed, Lady Tiki?” she inquires once the fighting is done and Tiki’s rite finished. She knows the answer—the Shepherds never once allowed their airborne enemies within striking distance of her—but she would hear it all the same. 

“Yes, thanks to you.” Say’ri knows Tiki refers to the Shepherds as a whole, but she can’t help the slight warmth that blossoms in her cheeks all the same.

 

 

Tiki is far from the legends, Say’ri decides. Though she’s always kind—particularly to Nowi, the only other of her kind amongst the Shepherds—Say’ri is sure the bards would have a conniption if they knew how often Naga’s Voice retired for slumber, oftentimes sleeping straight through the march, forcing the Shepherds to create a makeshift bed upon their convoy. No matter how often Tiki insists she’s here of her own will, Say’ri worries such slumber puts the divine being at risk.

Tiki, she also learns, is prone to bouts of quiet melancholy (though perhaps _nostalgia_ is the more accurate term), often while watching Lucina or Robin, only to shake her head when Say’ri asks. But when she speaks of heroes of old, of Marth and his warriors, Say’ri listens, both for the history lesson and the treasure of her time.

But it’s perhaps Tiki’s childish side that pulls Say’ri from a mixture of awe and worry into true affection, no matter how exasperating she first found it. But the sound of Tiki’s bright laughter, unburdened and free, makes the apple stuffed unceremoniously into her mouth all the more sweet, and Say’ri finds herself smiling along with her.

 

 

Walhart’s defeat has left most in a celebratory mood (no matter how subdued), but Say’ri finds little joy in the occasion. He lays dead, yes, that is certain, and dead by her own sword, at that, but it brings no peace to her. How could it? Her brother is gone, slain too by her hand, all because she hadn’t known the deal he’d made with Walhart’s vile tactician behind her back. 

“I know your grief tears at you, still.” Tiki settles herself next to Say’ri, her expression just as somber.

“My brother met the end he himself chose. What’s done is done.” So she says, but Say’ri’s voice betrays her, cracking on the final words. Tiki’s gaze is piercing. “What would you have me say?” 

“Not that what’s done is done!” Tiki’s nose wrinkles. “Your bond was not so feeble that a few months of marching would erase him from your heart.” Poisonous anger flares, and Say’ri finds herself spitting out words before she can think better of them.

“What could you ken of the bond I shared with him? Erase him from my heart?” A derisive snort, utterly unladylike and not a sound she’d dare make upon any other occasion. “‘Twould be easier to erase the heart entire!” Silence echoes, her companion looking dutifully contrite. Say’ri exhales slowly, gathering herself to offer an apology for the tone she has taken with the woman she’s come to worship.

“Forgive me, milady.” Say’ri’s mouth drops open in yet another vulgar display at the manakete’s quiet words. “I would retract those words, if possible…it was not my hope to deepen the wound.” She offers the weakest of smiles. “I just hoped to hear you speak frankly and tell me everything.”

“Why me?” Though Say’ri would say she has made friends amongst the Shepherds, there is much she keeps locked away in her heart. 

“I would like to be your friend.” _Friend_. The word soothes as much as it burns. “Long have you stood by my side, Say’ri, ever faithful, but never as a friend. Only as guard and disciple. I find it terribly lonesome.” There’s a softness to Tiki’s tone that Say’ri swears she’s never heard before this moment. “I think you are a beautiful person, Say’ri, and I would call you an equal. A friend, if you will.”

“My lifetime is but a few short days compared to yours.” _Friend_. She wishes for something else, but a friend will do, if it means standing at Tiki’s side. “Would you still have me, knowing that I cannot stay for long?”

“Without a moment’s hesitation. I am used to loss—do not deprive me from the joy of ever having as well.” It is a logic Say’ri cannot win against, though she wouldn’t want to, either.

“As you wish.” A soft smile pulls at her lips. “Flighty, heedless, and exasperating as you may sometimes be…I like you a great deal as well.” A soft laugh comes from her companion, her _friend_.

“Thank you, Say’ri.” And Say’ri thinks that this might just be enough.

 

 

That doesn’t mean she’s about to complain when, one day, Tiki leans over and presses her lips lightly to hers. The kiss is soft, gentle, and over far too soon for Say’ri’s liking, but it leaves blooming hope in its wake. 

“My Lady?” For though they’ve sworn to be friends and equals, old habits are hard to break. 

“Is it selfish of me, to ask for the joy of having this, too?” 

“Nay, Tiki.” Warm smile tugs at her lips. “For if you’ll have me, then I’d ask for it, too.” Tiki’s smile is radiant.

“Without a moment’s hesitation.” And Say’ri leans in to kiss her again.


End file.
